After Winter
by hmderp.isgussing
Summary: A time after the war. Jon is finally home and slowly rebuilds his ancestors castle. Meanwhile Dragons roam Westeros again. Taking their rightful place. Shadows roam still and even dragons can not protect the crown.


Jon

The Sun has yet to light the day. He hasn't slept well. He never does when that day is closing by.

Val is lying next to him, still sleeping and covered in furs. The moon shines down on her, covering her body in a white thin veil. She never fails to amaze him with her beauty. And on other days he would have enjoyed her, but not today.

It's too warm for him in this camber.  
By far to warm. He is used to the cold by now. Having embraced it since his birth. Making him probably half White Walker himself. He won't sleep now. Can't sleep. So he dresses himself up. Taking some furs along and steps out of the warm chambers .

"Jon" Val said " Why are you up so early and dressed . Where are you going"?  
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you." Jon replies with a tender voice "I couldn't sleep. I'll just walk to the Godswoods and clear my mind".

'I hope I don't sound to strange.'

"Is that so?" Val blinked, already drifting back into sleep "Try to not wake me again Prince Snow".

Knowing exactly where he wants to be. He walked across his deceased uncles corridor. To the Great Hall. Where his uncle ruled, where his ancestors ruled. His throat tightens whenever he remembers the man who raised him and named him.  
Today he will take this seat. Today the North will remember.

'And mourn'

He could hear the sound of the birds tweeting their melody already. Soon his duties will begin. Soon he won't have time. So he ignites a torch and moves out of the Great Hall, greeting the Guards in front of the door aid walking outside.

He walks a straight line and sees the few men-at-arms who watch from their towers. Down below he sees 4 men guarding the gate. And right next to them laid a pile of bricks. They are necessary for the repairing the damage caused by fire and war. The Boltens tried to replace the fire damaged bricks, but this was stopped by the winter and Stannis attack.

The walls still stood tall and sustained 8000 years. Even the Long Nigh. No fire or southern King will ever change that. Of that Jon was sure.

And thankfully the repairs went by faster then expected. The Credit for this goes to the Giants. Several clans and families joined the Wildings in hope of a better future, which could be only found south of the Wall. They have jet have to completely lay down their Wildling nature, but thankfully Jon earned their respect when.

'I hope I deserve it'

He moves in the direction of the crypts; one of the few place which were unaffected by the raging madness which swapped over the lands.

Taking the keys out, Jon opened the door and stepped inside. Smelling the cool air and the dust which spreads all over the place. With each steps he takes he feels watched. The old Kings of Winter look sternly at him, as if judging him. Their faces so much like his own.  
He has become an old man.

"Hard lands breed hard man" Have I become like them?

Hopefully deeming him worthy of entry. The feeling won't leave as he enters deeper into the crypts. He went deeper, into the newer parts. Where he found his uncle's grave, protected by a stony and older version of himself.

It had a large frame, bigger and more grim looking than he ever was. The carver did well crafting out his lordly face. But it's the cold one, the one he showed everyone not dear to him. Yet nothing of the warmth he knew him capable of.

This is of little matter compared to the fact, that the grave is empty. Hallis Mollen never succeeded or was ever seen again. So his bones never found the way to his grave. It was a bitter taste.

Knowing that the man he loved like a father would never receive peace alongside his family.

Next to him are his grandfathers and uncles grave. And next to them his mothers. Each time Jon thinks of her, his chest tightens.

'Not now. Not today' He thinks and leaves those bitter thoughts for another day.

And finally he sees him. His grave is the newest. Still being pale white and not affected by time. A direwolf made out of stone to his side. A sword over his lap. The bronze crown that was once take from him gracing his head.

In the past they had often played King and Lords. Even thought he knew he would never be one, he was sure that he would make a good lieg. The best. In some merciless twist of fate it was all taken away.

Jon throats tightened even more by that thought, feeling a hand sized stone growing in his throat. Pictures of him and Jon as young children came to his mind and he could feel his eyes getting teary.

Robb Stark has been a king, yet even without any title he would have done anything for him. For he was more brother to him than any son fathered by Rhaegar Targaryen ever could be.

'If he had only asked, demanded for me to come...'

His knees bent down and his sword was rammed into the ground. On his skin he could feel the pressure of thousands of eyes. And his.

"You gave me more than anyone would have given me. You gave me more than I would have ever deserved . You made me forget that i was a Snow more than once. You were my brother* Jon said. Taking a short break to collect himself.

"I will never forget this. I will protect the North the way you would have done, like your children would have. " he finishes.

'And you gave me the power to do so. A shield and sword to use'

'Plenty'


End file.
